Page 10 of Fiend
Who the fuck can live in such fucking filth?
Someone who deserves to die, that’s who.
Gritting my teeth, I make each step to the front door deliberately loud. You can hear each thud of my boots against the pliable wood until I stop right in front of the yellowing, thin metal door that seems like it could blow open at the slightest sign of wind.
Curling my lip at the worsening smell of filth and decay, I knock three times. It shakes under my fist, rattling in the rickety door frame, and not two seconds later, I hear the clunk of Trey’s footsteps.
I canfeelthe blood pumping through my heart as his shadow through the window grows near. It beats wildly as the adrenaline pushes its way through every individual vein in my body at inconceivable speeds.
I lick my lips, the anticipation making my cock twitch in my jeans.
Goddamn, I fucking missed this.
The door opens with the sound of metal scraping on metal, and my death-hungry gaze lands on the putrid piece of shit who is staring at me with confusion.
“Can I help you?” he asks with one disgusting, bushy brow raised in question. I smirk and take a step forward, just inside the pathetic metal door frame. I have to hunch to fit my six-foot-four frame through, but if anything, it only makes me appear that much larger because the revolting man I’m staring down at is quite literally staring up at me with wide eyes and an agape mouth. He comes to my chest, seemingly around the same height as Essa.
What a pathetic excuse of a man.
“What the—Get the fuck out of my house!” He places his palms on my chest and actually tries to shove me backward. My brows draw together as I glance down at his disgusting fucking skin touching me and back to his face in disbelief.
My lip curls in disgust at him daring to fucking touch me. I press my palm to his greasy forehead and shove him. He stumbles backward, tripping in a hole in the floor and tumbling down. His head cracks against the peeling, yellow-stained linoleum floor as his limbs flail.
I watch with amusement as he grapples for anything that might be surrounding him. For what? I don’t know because he sure as hell isn’t going anywhere.
Finally, he manages to straighten himself and make it to his feet. He stumbles all the same, and I watch with a smirk curling my lips as he yanks the even worse for wear back door open, only to see Leo standing there with his broad arms crossed over his chest and a look on his face I wouldn’t want directed towards me, that’s for sure.
His expression is nearly blank with the exception of the slightest curling of his upper lip. But it’s his eyes that are ablaze with murderous rage.
The dumb bitch actually tries to dart past Leo through the doorway, but when he takes a step, Leo swings his arm out and hits him right in the temple with his brass knuckles. Trey falls to the floor in a heap of useless skin and bones, causing the stale, putrid air to waft around us.
“My skin feels like it’s crawling just being in here,” Leo grunts out as steps inside of the small house, kicking Trey’s body to the side carelessly as he does.
“It reminds me of Essa’s house before I burned it to the fucking ground. Though this is definitely worse,” I reply nonchalantly as I glance around, searching for something we can use to put him in so I can tie him up. The back of a metal folding chair catches my eye, and I go about setting it up where I want it—in the middle of the room to give myself space to work—and then I uncoil the rope that had fallen into the crook of my arm.
“What’s the plan here?” Leo asks as we drag him to the chair, me holding his legs and Leo, his arms. The thin coat of grease and sweat coating his skin makes it hard to grip him, and he keeps slipping from our grasp.
“Oh, you know I like—”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Leo growls as Trey slips again, his head smacking hard on the floor. The cracking sound makes me smile, but I’m beginning to feel irate.
“Apparently, the motherfucker has never heard of a shower.” And for good measure, I land a swift kick to his ribs before holding my breath and hauling him into the chair. I situate him the way I want: legs forward and off to the side along with his arms. His head rolls to his shoulder as he slumps over, and I flick a quick glance up to Leo as I reach for the rope.
Wordlessly, he bends his large frame down to grasp Trey’s arms and hold his upper body in place so I can wrap the rope around him a hell of a lot easier.
“This is way fucking easier with two people.” I focus on quickly but efficiently twisting the tan, coarse rope around one ankle. Once it’s secure, I saw my knife through it and move to the next until every limb is tied to the chair in a way that will be very fucking painful once he’s conscious, to say the least. His hands are already turning a nice shade of purple, and I haven’t even begun.
“Well, what the fuck are you waiting for, Vin? Wake the bitch up.”
FIVE
LEO
I can seethe glint in his eyes. The fucking sick thrill he gets from this. Somewhere deep down inside of me—a place I don’t care to recognize anymore—feels some way about it. But the me right here, right now, feels fucking elated.
It’s been too goddamn long since I’ve felt this. The raw hunger from a kill. From fuckingrevenge.
And oh fucking man, is revenge the sweetest of all. The taste of it on your tongue after you’ve been dreaming of it, day after day, hour after hour, every second until you finally fucking get it.
